


Let The Games Begin

by SuburbanSun



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, FitzSimmons Secret Santa, Flirting, Fluff, Non-SHIELD AU, scavenger hunt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-29
Updated: 2016-12-29
Packaged: 2018-09-13 01:23:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9100270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuburbanSun/pseuds/SuburbanSun
Summary: When Fitz signs up for a Christmas-themed scavenger hunt through the city, he's certain he's going to win.That is, until he meets the competition.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Starmaster](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starmaster/gifts).



> Written for TheFitzsimmonsNetwork's Fitzsimmons Secret Santa for becomingastarmaster, who requested "scavenger/treasure hunt." 
> 
> Happy holidays!
> 
> (Thanks to ardentaislinn as usual for the beta!)

“Excuse me-- I’m sorry-- did I accidentally sign up for one of those mud runs?” Fitz asked the woman standing off to the side of the registration table doing an elaborate series of stretches. She was decked out in workout gear-- brightly colored running shoes, tight-fitting leggings, a pullover with a little Nike swoosh on the chest.

She’d been turned away from him in a side lunge of some sort, but once she faced him fully, his heart skittered in his chest. Her eyes were warm, her smile bright, and he felt himself melt a little in the chill of the December air.

“A mud run? In this weather?”

He wrinkled his nose. “Yeah, I mean, I thought not.” He looked down at his clothes, worn jeans and a blue sweater with sleeves that came down just past his wrists, and shrugged. “I’m not really dressed for that, am I?”

She rolled her eyes, stretching her arms over her head once more. “I don’t think there was any sort of dress code specified on the website. I just like to be prepared for all eventualities.” The woman bent over and picked up the drawstring backpack that rested at her feet, starting to pull out various items to show him. “I’ve got insect repellent--”

“It’s winter.”

“--duct tape--”

“For kidnapping?”

“Granola bars--” He didn’t say anything to that, and she stopped. “What, no witty rejoinder?”

Fitz shrugged. “Was just thinking I was a bit peckish myself.” The woman chuckled and handed him one of the bars.

“Take it. I’ve got three more.” She looked at her watch, then frowned, rocking on the balls of her feet as she scanned the crowd gathering outside City Hall. When she turned back to Fitz, she huffed a laugh. “Where are my manners-- I’m Jemma Simmons, by the way.” She offered him her hand, and he shook it, swallowing a mouthful of granola before answering in kind.

“Fitz. Is my name.”

She cocked her head to one side. “Just Fitz?”

“If I had any say in it.”

“Well, Fitz… what brings you here today? Apparently you aren’t even certain what sort of race you’ve signed up for, so…” She grinned, and after a moment, he realized she was teasing him. Was she flirting? He couldn’t remember the last time he’d flirted with a woman. He tried not to panic.

“Um, actually-- I _do_ know, thank you very much.” He crossed his arms and leaned one shoulder against the lamp post next to him. “My friend Mack signed me up for it. Thought I’d be an asset. I’m quite good at puzzles, you see.”

Jemma’s eyes lit up. “Oh, me as well! Except I was the one who signed up my friend Daisy. I thought a Christmas-themed scavenger hunt through town sounded like the perfect way to start the holiday season.” At that, she gasped, then dove back into her backpack. “I almost forgot!” She triumphantly pulled out a pair of felt reindeer antlers attached to a headband, and tucked them neatly onto her head. When she shimmied back and forth, the tiny bells attached to each point of the antlers jingled merrily.

Fitz had never seen anything more adorable in his entire life.

She watched him expectantly, and he opened and closed his mouth once without speaking. He had the sudden urge to spend more time with this woman, and he knew if he didn’t say something soon, that would never happen.

“Hey--” he started, pushing off from the lamp post and taking a tiny step forward. “My friend seems to be late too, and maybe if yours doesn’t show up, um, we could--”

“Jemma!"

A dark-haired woman made her way through the crowd. When she reached them, she cringed, holding up her hands palms-out in apology.

“I know, I know-- you told me it started at eight instead of nine for a reason. Sorry.”

Jemma placed a hand on her hip, and Fitz shifted from one foot to the other, suddenly feeling awkward.

“Well, you’re here now, at least,” Jemma said to the woman. “I signed in for the both of us, so we should be all set.”

“Sounds good,” the woman said through a yawn. “Who’s this?”

“This is Fitz. He’s participating in the race as well. Fitz, this is my friend Daisy.”

“A little fraternization with the enemy, eh? Scandalous.” Daisy nudged Jemma with an elbow, and Fitz widened his eyes.

“He’s not--” Jemma began, before stopping herself. “Well, I suppose he _is_ among our top competition, by the looks of it.” She gestured around them at the bleary-eyed participants, many of whom were sipping takeaway coffees. She tilted her head the side and eyed Fitz with a little smile playing at her lips. “Perhaps I shouldn’t be fraternizing with you, after all.”

“Ehm-- no, actually, I think fraternization is a good thing, really,” he said, scratching idly behind his ear. “You never know when it might come in handy to know--”

“There you are, Turbo,” came a low voice behind the group. “Sorry I’m late. Elena’s car broke down again and I had to fix it before she could head into work.” Fitz greeted Mack with a wave.

“Mack, this is Jemma. And her friend Daisy. This is Mack, the one who signed me up for this thing.”

Mack crossed his arms over his chest and frowned. “Fraternizing with the enemy?”

“It’s not-- I’m not--” Fitz sputtered. His cheeks were tinged pink; he could feel it. Somehow Jemma didn’t seem bothered by their friends’ mutual teasing.

Just then, a bullhorn rang out and someone on a megaphone announced the start of the race. Daisy grabbed Jemma’s hand and began to pull her away, shouting behind her at Fitz and Mack, “May the best women win!” For her part, Jemma tossed an apologetic smile over her shoulder, but then fell into step with Daisy, jogging away to analyze the first clue.

Fitz sighed, then looked up at Mack. “Well. Shall we?”  
  
  
  


The first couple of clues were easy to solve, but there were supposed to be 15 in all. As he and Mack weaved down the aisle of the hardware store, the third clue clutched in Fitz’s hand, he felt his stomach grumble. Perhaps he should have packed a lunch.

“Okay,” Fitz said as they paused on the sidewalk outside the store to read the clue. “It says: ‘Santa’s elves are so very nice ‘cause they come from the land of sugar and spice. But your next clue can be found once you’ve ‘dug in’ in the home of the city’s largest oven.”

“Largest oven…” Mack muttered to himself. “I’ll Google it, see if there were any writeups in the local paper about somebody buying a big industrial oven or something.”

“No need.” A smug smile on his face, Fitz tucked the paper on which the clue was printed into his back pocket. “Follow me, Mack.” They hurried down the main drag, passing a few pairs studying their own clues, before they reached it. “Bertha’s Buns,” Fitz said, reading the words painted in delicate, swooping cursive on the windowpane outside the bakery. “Finest muffins in town. Bertha had a new oven installed a few months ago, a massive industrial-strength one.”

Mack rolled his eyes and they pushed through the door, the jingle of a bell announcing their presence. “I knew that sweet tooth of yours would come in handy eventually.”

“Well, we can’t all eat protein and steamed vegetables for every meal like _some_ people,” Fitz grumbled, but he broke into a grin when a squat older woman emerged from the bakery’s tiny kitchen. “Bertha!”

“Leopold! So good to see you. Can I get you your usual?”

He ignored Mack’s chuckle beside him. “Not today, Bertha. We’re here for the scavenger hunt. The clue said something about digging in?”

Bertha clapped her hands together in glee. “Of course!” She disappeared into the kitchen momentarily and reappeared with a pie in hand. “Now, I’m supposed to read you some kind of long, rhyming instructions-- but what it boils down to is this, Leopold. The clue is baked into the bottom of the pie.”

Fitz took the pie from her with a grin. If all the remaining clues involved him eating his favorite baked goods and junk food, he’d be crowned the winner in no time. He and Mack settled at a table by the window, and Mack pushed the pie all the way in front of Fitz.

“This is all you, Turbo.”

With shrug, Fitz tucked in, taking bite after bite of the delicious pie. After several mouthfuls, he heard the jingle of the door and looked up to see Jemma and Daisy enter with triumphant looks on their faces.

“Jemma, my dear!” Fitz did a doubletake when Bertha greeted her with just as much familiarity as she’d greeted him. “Here for the hunt?”

“That we are!” Jemma chatted with Bertha for a few moments, and when she turned back around, she too was holding a pie. It was only then that she noticed Fitz, who was watching her with a forkful of pie halfway between the tin and his gaping mouth. “Fitz!” He hoped he wasn’t imagining the pleased tone coloring her voice. “Mind if we join you?”

“Fraternization…” Daisy sing-songed under her breath, but Jemma shrugged her off and took a seat across from Fitz at the small table.

“Uhh-- no, no, of course!” He pulled his pie closer to him so she’d have room for her own. “Um-- how do you know this place?”

Jemma looked up from placing a napkin across her lap. “It so happens that Bertha makes the best cup of tea in the city, short of my apartment.”

“Best muffins, too,” Fitz added with a nod. He took another bite of pie.

She wrinkled her nose. “Well, I do try to keep my sugar intake reasonably low.”

“See, Turbo?” Mack interjected. “Not everybody’s on a constant diet of pretzels and pastries.” Fitz kicked him underneath the table, but Jemma just laughed.

“Going to be a challenge to eat that whole pie, then, eh?” Fitz asked.

“The clue didn’t say you had to actually _consume_ the entire pie.” Jemma took a small bite, clearly savoring the taste, then used her fork to dig through the crust and fruit, mangling the pie but quickly fishing out the piece of cardstock that contained the clue. She smiled at him smugly. “It only said you should _dig in_.”  She folded her napkin neatly and placed it on the table, then she and Daisy stood up. “See you at the finish line!”

The bell jangled again, and they were gone.

Fitz stared down at the pie, mouth hanging open.

“Well, what’re you waiting for, Turbo? You heard the woman!”

He’d been blinded by his sweet tooth, but Jemma was right. Once he dug around in the remaining pie for a few moments, he unearthed the clue, and with a wave to Bertha, he and Mack were out on the street once again.

Jemma and Daisy had a few minutes head start, sure. But now Fitz was even more determined to win.

  
  


Clues 4-7 were simple, and clue 8 wasn’t _difficult_ , exactly, but it involved going into the local police precinct, and Fitz had never felt entirely comfortable around cops. He nearly leapt out of his skin when the receptionist asked if he was there to report a crime or confess to one.

It wasn’t until they were working through clue number 9 that they crossed paths with Jemma and Daisy again.

“He sees when you’re sleeping and knows when you wake,” Mack read from the paper. “And come Christmastime, there are presents at stake. To tell him your wants will cost half minus one, and trips to this place are mere errands, not fun.” He frowned down at the slip. “Errands… grocery shopping, picking up your dry cleaning…”

Fitz tapped his index finger to his lips thoughtfully. “Half minus one. So… negative one half? What costs negative one half?” They were crossing through the park, nearing the big fountain where he often came when he needed to think.

“...going to the dentist, picking up your kids from school, getting your oil changed…”

“But nothing costs negative one half. How is that even possible?”

They’d reached the fountain and began to circle it, both stuck in their own train of thought. They had nearly completed their third lap when another pair approached the fountain.

“Oh!” said Jemma when she spotted them. “How’s everything coming along?”

Fitz grimaced, unwilling to admit that a clue had them flummoxed. They’d only been working at it for a few minutes, in any case. “Great. How about with you two?”

“Just completed number 9,” she answered, and her grin dazzled him for a moment before he could collect himself.

“Wait a second-- number 9?”

“We’re stuck on that one,” said Mack.

Fitz cleared his throat. “Well, hang on, I don’t know that ‘stuck’ is the word I’d use.”

“Jemma, come _on_!” said Daisy, tugging her friend by the elbow. “Remember-- they’re the enemy!”

Jemma rolled her eyes, but started to follow Daisy down the path toward the other side of the park before she hesitated and turned back. She dug through her backpack and pulled something out, thrusting a closed fist toward Fitz. He held out his hand, and she dropped two quarters into it.

“I like to come here when I’m working out a problem, or worried about something.” She nodded at the fountain. “Before I go, I like to toss a coin or two in.”

“And make a wish?” Fitz couldn’t help but wrinkle his nose. Wishes were basically nonsense.

“Heavens no,” she said. “Wishes are silly. But the proceeds from the fountain benefit the local schools, so it seems like a good thing to do, even without some kind of magical thinking to back it up.”

“Jemma Simmons!” Daisy called impatiently.

“I’m coming!” She turned back to Fitz with a shrug, nodding to the coins in his hand. “Perhaps that will help.” She turned back to Daisy and they jogged away, leaving Fitz and Mack to keep pacing around the fountain.

“Doing your taxes. Going to the gym?” suggested Mack, apparently still brainstorming errands. Fitz didn’t really hear him, though, his focus on the pair of quarters in his palm.

Pair of quarters.

"Wait a sec--” He pointed at the coins. “Fifty cents is half of a dollar.”

“Thanks for the economics lesson. What’s your point?”

Fitz shook his head. “No, Mack-- half minus one. Fifty cents minus one is 49 cents.”

“Okay…”

“What costs 49 cents?” He snapped with his free hand. “A stamp!”

“The post office!”

Fitz nodded excitedly. “It’s an errand that’s never fun!”

With that, they were off, starting in the direction of the post office branch on 2nd Street. Before they were out of tossing distance, Fitz turned back and threw the pair of coins into the fountain, then added all the change in his pocket for good measure.

  
  


Solving the post office clue seemed to kick off a streak of good luck for Fitz and Mack, and soon they were holding the very last clue in their hands. They stood on the steps of City Hall as they read it.

“Christmas comes but once a year, and brings with it great joy and cheer. Seeds planted will soon grow into garland, greens and mistletoe.”

Mack leaned back against the railing of the steps, crossing his arms. “A local nursery, maybe? The botanical gardens?”

“Oh, oh!” Fitz held up a finger, trying to remember details he’d read in the local paper. “Isn’t there a holiday topiary display at the botanical gardens?”

“That’s right-- I keep meaning to ask Elena to go with me some night before the holidays are over.”

Fitz gave Mack a look. “You still haven’t asked her out?”

The taller man held up both hands. “Look, I’m going at my own pace.”

“The pace of a turtle,” Fitz muttered.

“What was that?”

“Nothing. The botanical gardens sound like a winner. And I reckon we’ll be the first ones there-- we flew through the last few clues and I haven’t seen anyone else from the hunt in ages.”

They reached the gardens and paid the entrance fee, then hurried from display to display, scanning the greenery for clues.

“What else did it say? Anything about deer?” Mack asked as they passed a topiary display shaped like one of Santa’s reindeer toward the back of the grounds.

“Garland, greens and mistletoe,” Fitz recited. “It’s _all_ garland, greens and mistletoe. How are we supposed to find the ruddy clue?”

Just then, they heard voices-- decidedly familiar, female voices. Jemma and Daisy were hurrying along the garden path behind them. Jemma stopped short when she spotted them, an impressed look on her face.

“Fitz! Mack. You’re already here.”

“Just following the clues, you know,” Fitz said, rocking back and forth on his heels. “Mistletoe, and-- ah. All that.” Why did he dissolve into a puddle of awkwardness every time he ran into her?

“Oh! Then I suppose you know where to go from here?” she asked.

He opened his mouth, trying to seem confident, but then exhaled, his shoulders slumping. “Not a clue, no.”

A slow smile grew on Jemma’s face, and she took a step closer to him. He blinked, sucking in a nervous breath, as she leaned even closer. Once she was close enough for him to make out the flecks of amber in her eyes, she reached past him to pluck something from a nearby display, then stepped back and held it up. A small white envelope.

Fitz swiveled around to look at the slim wooden display-- which held packets of seeds for patrons to take with them before they exited the gardens, _of course_ \-- then turned back to gape at her.

“How did you know exactly what the clue was asking for? Or that it was even here?”

She smiled. “I’m a botanist. I’ve done a number of consulting jobs with the gardens. And I have a season pass,” she added as an afterthought. “The complimentary seasonal seeds are one of my favorite parts of the exhibit.”

“Does this mean we won?” asked Daisy from behind them. Jemma opened the envelope and pulled out a piece of cardstock.

“Congratulations,” she read from it. “You’re the first annual winner of the Great Christmas Race! Please redeem this voucher at City Hall to receive your prize-- one $100 gift certificate to your choice of the businesses visited during the scavenger hunt for each member of your team.”

“Yes!” Daisy shouted, pumping her fist. “I’m going with the electronics store. Mama needs a new external hard drive.”

Mack’s hand came down on Fitz’s shoulder, heavy and reassuring. “Better luck next time, Turbo. Too bad there’s no prize for second place.” He slid his phone out of his pocket and dialed. “Elena? It’s me… hey, are you free tonight?”

That made Fitz smile, at least, as he turned back to Jemma. She was biting her lip as if she were deliberating about something.

“Well,” he began. “Congratulations on the win.”

“Thank you,” she said, her mind still clearly working. Finally, she nodded slightly, as if determined. “You know, I was going to use the winnings to purchase next year’s season pass to the gardens. They do a lovely art exhibit in January.”

“Oh?” he said. “Sounds nice.”

“It is.” Then she continued, “But I may be able to get comped passes through work, so instead I think I’m going to choose Bertha’s.”

Fitz salivated just thinking about it. “That sounds like a smart decision.”

“I hope so. And I was wondering-- if perhaps you’d like to join me for tea some afternoon this week? Help me use the gift certificate?”

His eyebrows shot up and his heart quickened. “You want to have tea with me?”

The corners of her lips quirked up, and she shrugged with one shoulder. “I thought perhaps that way we both win.”

  
  


Three weeks later, the door to Bertha’s jangled as Jemma rushed through the door, heading toward what had become their usual table by the window. Fitz was already there waiting for her.

“Sorry, sorry, I’m so sorry I’m late. I got called in on a consult.”

Fitz furrowed his brow. “On New Year’s Day?”

She shrugged, settling her napkin in her lap. “Botany rests for no one!”

He chuckled, trying to squelch the warmth that rose up in his chest every time she said or did something adorable. It was difficult, considering how utterly besotted he was.

“So I have some bad news,” she said, and his heart dropped. “We used up the last of the gift certificate from the race when we were here on Thursday.”

“Oh.” He frowned. Had she invited him here to tell him that their twice-weekly-and-sometimes-thrice-weekly tea dates (could he call them dates? He’d hoped so, but maybe not) were coming to an end?

“Which means we’ll have to start paying for our pastries,” she continued. The tightness in his chest let up a bit, but didn’t disappear entirely.

“So… does that mean you want to keep, um… doing this?”

Jemma poured herself a cup of tea from the pot on the table, then began trace the pattern on the side of the mug with one fingertip. Her hair fell across her forehead and Fitz’s fingers itched to tuck it behind her ear. “Well. You know. They say you should spend New Year’s Day as you’d like to spend the rest of the year.”

“Ah,” he said, nodding in understanding. “And you’d like to spend yours drinking tea with Bertha.”

She blinked at him once, twice, then burst out laughing. “Oh, Fitz,” she murmured, before lifting up out of her chair and sliding a cool hand around to cup the back of his neck. Leaning in close, she pressed her lips to his, soft and still faintly smiling. His eyebrows shot up before he had the sense to kiss her back. But eventually, he did.

When she pulled away, she was looking at him with her fondest, most exasperated expression. “Actually, I thought I’d quite like to spend the rest of my year drinking tea with _you_. Among other even more interesting things. What do you think?”

He just stared at her for a brief moment before his face broke out into a smile. “I think… it sounds like it’s going to be a great year.”

Her answering grin warmed him through, and as he took a bite of a scone, he felt hopeful and light at the prospect of spending as much time with Jemma in the year to come as she’d have him.

Yeah, he thought. They’d both won.

**Author's Note:**

> Want to hang out on Tumblr? I'm unbreakablejemmasimmons over there.


End file.
